


Toastally Screwed

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Bread, Canon Universe, Electrocution, Gen, Unfortunate Implications, Violence Against Toasters, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kitchen safety? Responsibility? The perils of electrocution?Jongin thinks it’s absolute bullshit, he’s just a simple, honest man trying to enjoy his bread.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/A Toaster
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	Toastally Screwed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chanology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanology/gifts).



> [Context!](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61es9oEcFyL._AC_SX466_.jpg)
> 
> This was a great idea that I managed to fuck up, but it's okay. 
> 
> I finally wrote an EXO/kitchen appliance ship for the fandom! The government may or may not have encouraged me to write this PSA as well. Please do not stick metal things into random holes at home; unless done safely and consensually. 
> 
> Treat your toasters well and treat yourself better!

Him, his toaster, and the world.

Jongin liked his bread how he was, or at least how he thought he was supposed to be; the duality of a crisply seared golden exterior, and a soft, gushy inside; parallels of taste and texture perfectly melding into a way his one and only darling appliance was able to produce.

Nobody quite understood how he was able to love an inanimate object so much it was frightening, frankly, him included, but when phrased as such; it would be preposterous to not deeply appreciate the presence of a handy bread-baker in his life.

They’d been across the seven seas and back, him and that old piece of disagreeable junk gifted to him way back when in 2008 as a prank gift from the one and only Soojung; with telling silver scruffs on the top and scratches over the plastic exterior. It was what one could call ‘well loved’; abused, dented, dropped on the ground and crumb tray flattened, yet ever so resilient at getting the job done.

Jongin would be lying if he said he had no affection for the thing. The stand of the toaster was stunted at one end, making for a wobbly scenario with every press of the baking lever, yet somehow, it had been more stable than half his relationships.

No matter how alluring walking by the new toaster oven models in the kitchen section of the hypermarket was, Jongin would never even let the thought of cheating cross his mind.

Nothing could replace his baby.

It had seen a lot from its trusty position back in the trainee dorm rooms, to its current place watching over the countertop of his new kitchen. So,so much had passed through the fossil’s breadth, namely every remotely gluten-laced thing he’d eaten throughout the years.

Today was another day that was perfect for such activities, and no exception at all.

🍞🍞🍞

The newest victim of the carbohydrate crematorium was none other than a sack of bagels from a local bakery Jongin had been eyeing lately; the fancy kind of hole-in-the-wall, hipster establishment ‘Kai’ would never be caught dead in, the very one Jongin had a soft spot for.

It was an ordeal to get the paper bag he clutched in his hand, reflecting on the trial that had gone on whilst throwing open the fridge to access its copious contents.

He had to break out the sunglasses, muttering a quick prayer after ducking out of the SM entertainment building to stay free from fan harassment, and roll back the urge to flirt with the cute cashier that greeted him obliviously at the counter.

Jongin quickly located his tub of soy cream cheese and retracted his hand from the fridge in one smooth movement, grinning to himself.

Fuck, it had been really hard not to flirt with that cutie.

Perhaps instead of a bagel, he’d seek out a baguette the next time.

Manhandling his favourite appliance in the world to his side, Jongin took his time sawing down the center of one fragrant bread, demonstrating his culinary expertise by eviscerating the poor thing into near-crumb status. Ragged remnants of the bagel’s exterior hung down in tatters as he examined his handiwork, the scrap-strewn cutting board looking akin to a gluten graveyard.

Perfectly cut. He’d become a celebrity chef if not for his dancing prowess.

Jongin hummed an old song to himself, passing the time as he took both sesame-dusted halves and popped them directly into the toaster, dusting off his hands on pants worth more than the entire GDP of Palau.

He started on the cream cheese with a knife.

The toaster jumped as he slid open the utensil drawer, rummaging its contents with one hand, brow creased in frustration. Where was the sought-after blade? Surely Kyungsoo hadn’t taken up on his threats to actually kill one of the members.

Momentarily startled, Jongin paused and wiped sweat off his forehead.

The toaster lurched again, making a violent mechanical sound.

He’d rather smack the shit out of the machine before it choosed to defy him.

Sauntering over to the counter briskly, he gave it a good spank on the rounded, red, exterior surface, his hand tingling from the residual heat. Jongin twisted the knobs on the side, the plastic warm to the touch; fiddled briefly with the many levers on the side of the contraption, and then backed away like prey to a dangerous predator, hands up in resignation.

Some things were better left untouched, and he would leave it to do whatever witchery needed to be done.

Jongin leaned against the counter and settled for playing SSSM with one hand. Perhaps if he held his breath some more and kept wishing, he’d finally collect some more Krystal cards. A hopeful, pathetic thought.

The toaster called for him once again minutes later, jolting up violently to assure him his bread was most definitely well cooked. His bagel lodged in one end, he stood over the sputtering machine and peered down.

One side of the bagel, having been twice as thick as the other side, was pressed flush into the slot, no sign of escape whatsoever.

He cursed. His fingers wouldn’t be able to get that; Jongin knew from firsthand experience that he wasn’t a fan of cramming them into tight spaces.

His eyes landed on the chopsticks resting atop the kitchen island; yesterday’s remnants of a hearty midnight snack. The skewers and the maneuverability should've compromised for the lack of space and agility; Jongin snatched them up in one go, smirking to himself.

He’d have his bread and eat like a rich man should, no difficulty at all. It was a tight fit to wedge the tail ends of the chopsticks inside the zapping crevasses; he popped out his elbows at awkward angles and persisted nonetheless.

Jongin grunted, contorting his face into a manner of weird expressions throughout his vigilant pursuit.

The bread was almost to the surface then, the craftiness of his efforts finally paying off. He licked his lower lip in anticipation, reaching one abrupt, greedy hand into the vents.

Jongin almost didn't feel it when it hit.

He realized the presence of metal in his hand all too late, too stiff to work the muscles and drop the offending object like a ticking bomb. His knees buckled, folding like paper, and he fell in a heap to the ground.

Utterly ungraceful.

Holy fucking shit, now he would never get that shiny Krystal card.

Wasn’t electricity Jongdae’s domain?

Where was that fucker now when he actually needed to use his powers?

🍞🍞🍞

So this is how it was going to end for Kim Jongin.

Dying in bliss, bread crushed in one fist, a sparking chopstick lodged squarely in a toaster slot as he slumped onto the floorboards, muscles stiffening in pain.

The was unfortunate. Jongin almost pitied the obituary his family would inevitably have to cough up in place of their son’s body being found prone in a completely composing position. His fingers clenched and released, charred and eyes unblinking.

To think he was going to finally have his solo this month; let the world see the real Kim Jongin, stripped of all glamorous and flashy branding.

His life came in quick flashes before his eyes; debut, scandals, the elation of being atop a stage for a sea of clamoring fans and the satisfaction of having had a career with little regrets. He imagined his own Naver article, the cool press of the kitchen tile almost abusing his limp cheek as the last of his senses shut down.

_‘Korean celebrity, member of top boy band found dead and pantless in apartment flat.’_

There was nothing more authentic than that. Sardonically, Jongin laughed. His mouth failed to move, his body twitching in involuntary pulses.

Something smelled like it was sizzling. Smoke curled upwards in menacing tendrils as Jongin followed his first and decidedly, only love into death, his head lolling back, body going gently limp.

Perhaps he would even break brand rankings one last time.

What a way to go out.

**Author's Note:**

> Dare I suggest you go bake some bread right now as a reward for finishing this mess?


End file.
